


check out

by chwe



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2018-12-12 10:32:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11735235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chwe/pseuds/chwe
Summary: Mingyu finds himself tripping over campus bad boy Jeonghan harder than he thought he would.





	1. what he knows

Every Wednesday, for an entire two hours, starting from 12:30 and ending at 2:30, Mingyu gets the opportunity to stare at the most attractive boy on campus.

_Yoon Jeonghan_. Twenty one. Intimidating and unapproachable.

Absolutely _adored_ by the entire university for his looks, along with the cold attitude he’s created a reputation for with the few interactions he’s had outside of his close friends. He is everyone’s _wet dream_.

There's an undeniable aura of mystery that follows him. It only adds to his desirability.

There’s no known history behind him. Few know more his name and face, fewer are close enough with him to be seen as "friends". Even his major is relatively unknown.

Rumors fluctuate around the campus.  Whispers of “Undecided, he’s in too many different classes,”, “Science major, maybe, he’s always hanging around the bio labs,” or “Does he even attend? I thought he was a model," rotate every few weeks.

His appearance clues into nothing. With other students, it's too obvious. Hong Jisoo, often seen with Jeonghan, is clearly a literature major. He frequents in the library, wrapped up in soft sweaters, glasses slipping down his nose. He reads as he walks through the campus, leafing through his book while clumps students part for him (Mingyu knows from first hand experience, clumsily dodging him only to fall into someone else). Joshua is so soft compared to Jeonghan, it’s a wonder how they’d met.

Choi Seungcheol is a bio major, and another close friend of Jeonghan’s. He’s often seen rushing around campus with a lab coat on and goggle marks pressed red on his skin. There are even times where he forgets to take off his gloves, and they stand out a stark purple against the scenery of the campus.

For Mingyu to say that Jeonghan was ‘different’ feels like he’s back in middle school, explaining why his fourteen year old sweetheart was crying over the cereal in his pantry to his parents. But it’s true, that Jeonghan expresses himself in a closed off manner. The rips in his jeans might say ‘grungy’, but the varsity jacket he wears reflects an athletic look. Between the two, the soft cotton of his t-shirts clues nothing into his personal life. His image, altogether, is undecipherable.

Together, they make quite the sight. One shy and honeyed in his looks, another messy in even the way he pushes his hair away from his forehead, and the last dark and serious( _-ly pretty_ , is what Mingyu really thinks).

Wonwoo's relentless in his teasing. "He's a bad boy," he tells Mingyu, after he proclaims that Jeonghan is the ' _hottest student on campus, in my highly educated and well respected opinion_.'

Mingyu disagrees.

He sees Jeonghan as handsome and charismatic, even if Jeonghan himself seemed completely uninterested in 99% of the other students.

And, well. Who could blame him. He looks _damn_ good. If he wants to keep to himself, so be it.

Mingyu thinks there's nothing wrong with that.

Honestly speaking, Mingyu is just like the other students who seem to gravitate towards Jeonghan with lovestruck dazes. However, he doesn't bother trying to guess a major, and he knows that respecting his boundaries doesn’t make him any more special than those who don’t.

Simply put, Mingyu just shares the same political science gen-ed class with him, and knows nothing more.

His professor clears his throat. Mingyu blinks. “Don’t forget your research assignment. It’s due in two weeks.”

Jeonghan pulls a hand through his hair, tugging back his blonde bangs. A few students let out quiet groans. Mingyu observes. His paper has been done for four days. He plans on revising it before the week ends, but for the most part, it's done, and he's not too concerned over it.

After that, class is dismissed.

Jeonghan stands up from his seat, black jeans making his legs look lean and long. Mingyu might be drooling a little (he wipes at his chin, just in case). Jeonghan turns around to grab his bag, collarbones pale against the black of his loose shirt and, well, Mingyu really needs to get a hold of himself. A necklace gleams against the golden tone of his skin, pendant swinging just above his chest. A silver angel sits framed against his skin, holding an arrow, an imitation of cupid. The chain holds a peculiar weight to the rest of his outfit, and even with the simplicity, Jeonghan is stunning.

Mingyu swallows, eyes following his figure as he moves through the lecture hall.

“ _Meet me in the library_ ,” Wonwoo’s text lights up his screen, distracting him. Mingyu looks up, and Jeonghan is gone. He sighs and grabs his bag before going his own way.

-

The library, as expected around mid semester, is full, students struggling to find material for papers, data for research assignments, or even review for test. They squeeze together between shelves and whisper in hushed tones.

By some miracle, Wonwoo always manages to keep a table empty for the both of them. Mingyu wants to assume he’s sweet and others are too kind to disturb him, but he knows that Wonwoo wards off the desperate students with intimidating glares and quiet threats.

There they are, sitting under the dimmed library lights, sun sinking in the sky. Wonwoo works on a paper silently, chewing at his pen cap. Mingyu plays on his phone.

He’d finished most of his papers a few days after their assignments, pulling all nighters to get them done. Wonwoo teases him and tells him it’s unlike his nature to work so diligently, but in the end it’s Mingyu who has the extra time to spend himself and Wonwoo left with his procrastinated papers.

Mingyu taps at his screen. The character in his game dies, yet again, and he tosses his phone down on the table.

Wonwoo’s eyes flicker up to him, and he pulls a strand of Mingyu’s brown hair, bringing his attention back towards him. “How’s project bad boy going?” he asks, before returning to under lining phrases.

"He's practically _untouchable_ ," Mingyu moans, burying his head in his arms.

 "Yeah," Wonwoo agrees, completely unhelpful, "and it's not like you're the only one who likes him."

Mingyu smothers his face further into his biceps. "Thanks," he mumbles. Wonwoo just hums.

For a few more minutes, Mingyu listens to the scratch of Wonwoo's pen against his notebook. The hushed tones of the library lull his eyes closed. He falls asleep like that, between the whispers and page turns, head in cradled in his arms.

When he wakes up, he's at the table alone.

It's dark, most desk lights out. Mingyu’s not surprised. He’d been pissed the first few times, waking up, head pounding against the wood of the table in the quiet of the library, but now he feels indifferent. Wonwoo has classes, other schedules to attend to. No longer are they both in high school, sticking together for each hour and class.

His phone reads 3:17 AM, and when he checks it, there's a text from Wonwoo.  Mingyu ignores it in favor of getting back to his dorm.

Sluggishly, he pulls on his jacket, and in the process, pushes his bag off the table. Cursing to himself, he leans over to pick it up. He can barely see anything in the shadows of the library.  While he’s scooping up his bag and thinking about his glasses (which he’s always forgetting on his desk), he trips over himself. He really should get home.

He stumbles out of the library doors. The chill bites at his cheeks.

"Shua, there you are," a voice says, and Mingyu swings around.

There's a shadow leaning against the wall. "I'm so cold, let’s go home."

"Oh, uh, you have the wrong person." Mingyu says, scratching his neck. He turns  around, feeling awkward, but he doesn't leave. The wind is strong and well, he's wearing a sweater anyway, and who knows how long this ‘Shua’ kid will keep the other waiting, and--

He turns back around and shrugs off his jacket. It's dark, so he can only assume the other student is sizing him up. "Midterms are coming up," He says, and offers his coat, "you shouldn't catch a cold when you're supposed to be studying"

The other hums in agreement, and takes the weight from his hands. "Thanks," they say, and Mingyu smiles (his most trustworthy, “ _I try to call my mom every Sunday and only forget once every blue moon_ ” smile), though they probably can't see.

He walks home, and if it’s cold, he doesn’t notice. He lets out a breath and watches it fog up the air in front of him instead. The streetlights paint the ice slicked sidewalks a warm orange, and the snow crunches under the weight of his steps.

Mingyu pretends it's summer and doesn't shiver.

When he gets back to the dorm, he tosses his bag to the ground and crouches to untie his shoes, all while retelling his story to the entire room.

"You're so dumb," Wonwoo chides. He’s in the kitchen, stirring ramen, one of Mingyu's birthday gift aprons wrapped around his waist. Even decorated in pink frills, he sends the most reprimanding glare. Mingyu pouts. "How are you going to get your jacket back if you don't know who you gave it to?"

Mingyu’s expression drops. "Oh yeah," he says, and feels dumb.

Vernon pops up from the back of the couch, where he’d been laying. He waves his 3DS around while saying, "Mingyu can’t help it, he doesn't have a mean bone in his body."

Wonwoo shakes his head and adds, "Or a clever one"

-

The next day, Mingyu wakes himself up by sneezing.

“Oh no,” he whispers to himself.

Wonwoo shoulders open the door to his room. “Oh yes,” he says, “Look at yourself.”

Mingyu tries to get up, but his chest aches. He falls back against his pillow, groaning. It comes out hoarse.

The other chuckles, throwing a sweater and jeans at him. “You have class in thirty minutes. Get ready and moving now, and you can stop for hot chocolate.”

Mingyu smiles at him, even if it’s weak. His best friend knows him too well.

Wonwoo approaches only to wrap a scarf around his neck, twisting it up over his mouth where it's too close to strangling him to death. It’s warm, and Mingyu furrows his nose into the fabric. “Don’t forget this,” Wonwoo says, his voice gentle.

It’s during these times where Mingyu really stops and appreciates Wonwoo. They’ve been friends for so long, even before college. Mingyu had grown up on the floors of Wonwoo's apartment, crying over toys and the scrapes on his knees. They'd eaten together, rode the bus to school together, cheated and shared homework together, and when it came to university choices, they chose the same one together. Mingyu knows Wonwoo as sharp and keen and so intelligent, even if he outwardly comes off as intimidating.

Mingyu sneezes and cuts off his own thoughts.

Wonwoo must think he looks pathetic, nose dripping and cheeks red, because he ‘tuts’ and mutters “If you hadn’t been stupid you wouldn’t have gotten sick.”

Mingyu furrows his brow and stops appreciating his friend.

-

After a shower, Mingyu gets ready and make his way towards the campus Starbucks. Around this time, the lines are either out-the-door long or nonexistent. He’s in luck, because when he pushes the door open, the cafe is completely empty.

On any other day, he would waltz in and yell his order out, but his throat feels raw and swollen when he swallows, so instead he walks to the counter and croaks out “Seungkwannie, hot chocolate, please.”

Seungkwan might be one of the only “morning people” that Mingyu knows of. He fits well in Starbucks, mainly because it’s the only job on campus where he gets to wake up and immediately annoy the living hell out of people. Mingyu knows he takes pride in it.

In fact, he appears a moment later, drink in hand. “Hey Mingyu,” he greets, and then double takes. “Hey snotface,” he says instead, and Mingyu can’t find it in himself to get mad. He silently accepts his drink, letting the heat of the cup warm up his hands.

Regardless of how obnoxious he may be, Mingyu is grateful to know Seungkwan. There are perks to knowing baristas, and the perks are usually free drinks. Mingyu’s not sure if there are any other actual perks, unless you count the tip bragging at the end of the day, but the free drinks are a definite.

Mingyu takes a gulp of hot chocolate and lets it sear the inside of his mouth in hopes it'll calm the swelling of his throat. He winces at the heat.

The younger continues to push at his boundaries. “Really, you look terrible. What happened?” Mingyu glares and sniffles out his entire story, and when he finishes, Seungkwan raises an eyebrow. “Wow, Mingyu, you’re consistently a pushover, even when no one's asking you to be!”

After attempting to strangle the barista, Mingyu wraps his scarf back around his neck and makes his way to class, completely ignoring Seungkwan’s chirpy farewell.

When he arrives, there are still 15 minutes left until class starts. He sinks into his chair, letting his notebook fall open.

He naps just like that, drink forgotten and left to the side, and when the professor comes in, the girl next to him politely shakes him awake. For the next hour and a half, they take notes in silence, side by side.

At the end of class, after the professor wraps up their lesson and applauds them for (mostly) handing in their papers on time, the girl seated next to him turns and asks, “Are you okay?”

Mingyu flushes red. He hadn’t realized he was _that_ noticeably sick, even if he felt all types of awful and hit on four different times by the same ratty school bus.

“Oh, yeah, just caught a cold,” he explains, feeling somewhat caught off guard. They converse for a while, exchanging soup recipes, before going on their own ways.

As soon as he steps out of the building, Mingyu covers his face with his scarf. He’s embarrassed-- normally he dresses well and maintains a good appearance. Even his hair, which he normally styles up and to the side, is falling over his eyes in a mess.

He sighs and presses his drink to his cheek. It’s not necessarily hot anymore, but it’s warm, and he’ll take what he can get.

Once again, the cold from outside hits him. Mingyu briefly considers how much easier the day would’ve been if he hadn’t given away his jacket, because the wind is harsh and dries up his skin. His knuckles are red, and his nose is even drippier than before.

He doesn’t regret it, though. He can’t bring himself to. Even as he sneezes the entire way to the dorm, walks in only to receive Wonwoo’s scolding, and throws up in the bathroom, he doesn’t find himself wishing he hadn’t.

Wonwoo hovers over him as he stares into the toilet bowl, miserable. His senses feel foggy and he’s not really sure whether or not Wonwoo calls Vernon to help him, not even after he’s hefted up.

By the time his head clears up a little, he’s already in bed, tucked under his comforter.

“There’s aspirin and water next to you,” Vernon says, pushing his bangs out of his face and tying them back with a hair tie. He lays a wet towel over Mingyu’s forehead. The cool relief he gets only maximizes the intensity of the heat, rolling off his forehead like waves.

Mingyu wants to show how grateful he is for his friends, especially Vernon, who’s one year younger than him but still takes care of him like an angel would. When he opens his mouth to say ‘thanks’, his tongue feels too large, and his mouth is dry. He swallows, instead, and it sounds like a raw hiccup in the air.

Even without saying anything, Vernon smiles. He pats Mingyu’s cheek, humming as he does. It’s reassuring, and Mingyu’s eyes flutter shut.

Wonwoo says something about going to the market and getting ingredients for his mom’s ‘famous’ soup recipe, one that always makes Mingyu feel better when he’s sick (although, famous is a stretch, because it’s known only between Mingyu and Wonwoo’s households).

Vernon says something back, but Mingyu doesn’t hear the rest of the conversation, already dozing off.

-

He sleeps fitfully. The next morning, he wakes up and feels cold and hot at the same time, but when he opens his mouth to say it aloud, he has to kick off his blankets and race to the bathroom.

“Are you sure you just gave your jacket away?” Wonwoo asks, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorframe. “No drinking, nothing else?”

Mingyu nods, then leans over their toilet again. Wonwoo grimaces.

Vernon peaks in the doorway behind Wonwoo, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Oh, Mingyu, you’re really not doing too hot, huh buddy?” His hair is one big mess and his flannel pants are too big on him, and normally Mingyu would coo over how cute he looks in the morning, but he nods and finds himself hurling again.

His roommates groan.

“Mingyu,” Wonwoo butts in, “You can’t go to class like this. I’ll email your professor for you.” Vernon nods along behind him, furrowing his brow to look serious.

Mingyu hums, knowing he’s in no condition to sit through a lecture, but then he’s darting onto his feet with realization.

Today is a Wednesday.

Promptly, he throws up again.

When Mingyu wakes up next, his roommates are standing over him, and he's back in bed. They both have matching creases between their foreheads, and Mingyu hates how worry looks on their faces. He smiles up at them, hoping to dazzle their concern away, but as he does, he goes a little cross-eyed. His head aches dully.

"It's four in the afternoon," Wonwoo says, quiet. Vernon looks like he's going to cry.

"Relax," Mingyu says, and throws up in his mouth a little bit. "It's not like I'm going to die from a cold."

The two manage to laugh, light and breezy, over the tension in the room. "Let's get you to the infirmary," Wonwoo says, and helps him up. They leave, without Mingyu changing out of his feverish clothes, and without letting him brush his teeth.

It's kind of disgusting.

When they step outside, a shiver passes through Mingyu. He rubs at his arms, and catches Vernon’s frown deepening.

Both roommates are wearing short sleeved shirts, and as Mingyu looks around, most people are. The weather had warmed up, if only for today. He looks down at his own sweater, thick and worn, and realizes what's wrong in his actions.

They get to the nurse's building fast, especially with Wonwoo and Vernon hustling Mingyu as if he'd been about to pass out at any moment (or throw up, which is the more probably of the two).

After lounging in the waiting room for fifteen minutes, Mingyu's called into the back. When he stands up, Wonwoo and Vernon stand up to go with him, but he's really not a child anymore, and he's a little embarrassed after the receptionist sends them a long stare, so he shoos the other two away and goes in on his own.

The tests go fast, (Mingyu hates them, and scrunches his nose as the nurse prepares a stick to shove down his throat) and soon enough, he's given a prescription and pushed back to the front reception.

When Wonwoo and Vernon catch sight of him, they both let out matching breaths. Mingyu smiles and wipes his nose on his sleeve. Nothing feels any different, except he has a slip of paper allowing him antibiotics and a mindset to go home and get rest, just as the doctor suggested.

The trio make their way out of the building. Wonwoo offers to buy Starbucks for the three of them, and after a little hassling from Vernon and Mingyu on how "He skipped the last two times he had to pay, didn't he? He _owes_ us these drinks", they make their way to the cafe.

Just as they're entering the Starbucks, Mingyu stops, abrupt. Wonwoo and Vernon wobble into each other behind him.

"What's wrong?" Wonwoo groans against his shoulder.

"I think." Mingyu's mouth is suddenly _too_ dry. He doesn't say anything for a minute. Vernon, at the back, stands on his tippy-toes and tries to peer over, into the cafe for a view of what's happening.

"I think Jeonghan's wearing my jacket."

At least, he's pretty sure.

Over at a table inside, Jeonghan is slung over Joshua. He has black jeans on, tight around his thighs, but instead of his usual unapproachable outfit, he looks unusually delicate.

Mingyu's worn leather jacket replaces his usual fitted varsity one. It's too big and falls over his shoulders, revealing the cream colored shirt underneath. The brown of his coat matches the honeyed brown of his eyes, and when he leans over to laugh against Seungcheol's neck, they glitter.

Mingyu wants to cry. Wonwoo squints.

"Huh," Vernon says. "That _is_ Mingyu's jacket."

They all stand in the entrance of the cafe for a minute, before Seungkwan peeks out from the back and loudly asks if they're going to come in, or let all the cold air out. Wonwoo shoves Mingyu forward, and they all stumble in together.

A few people turn. Mingyu doesn't check if Jeonghan is one of them. He makes his way to the counter, where Seungkwan cheekily waits, head cocked to the side and propped up on one of his arms.

"You're not looking any better than you did a few days ago," he says, then leans forward and drops his voice into a hushed whisper. "Isn't that your beloved jacket over there, where those boys are sitting?"

Mingyu refuses to turn his head and look. He knows Seungkwan's games.

"Actually, he's coming over here right now."

Mingyu turns to look so fast, he feels his neck crack in three different places. There's no one approaching, and he locks eyes on the seated trio once again.

However, this time, Jeonghan is looking back.

His mind goes blank, before he curses Seungkwan out in his head (and himself, for being foolish enough to believe him).

He gulps and turns back towards the counter. He's stiff, but orders his drink, waits for it (a little impatiently), tells Seungkwan it's on Wonwoo, and sits down while the others order. His cheeks feel hot, and not with sickness. His knee bounces on its own accord. He hopes the flavor of his drink covers up the fact that he hadn't brushed his teeth in two days.

He's absently sipping, maybe sweating a little, eyes glued to the seat across from him, when a shadow falls over his table. Mingyu looks up without moving his head. It's not Vernon, nor is it Wonwoo.

Jeonghan is standing over him, looking absolutely _breathtaking_ in his jacket.

Mingyu swallows, hard.


	2. the "date"?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mingyu finds himself swirling further into the pit of "gone"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promised an update before the year ends and this chapter the best i could do

Mingyu does not get his jacket back.

In fact, it all happens very quickly from there. It's almost one week later, after the run-in with Jeonghan, and Mingyu finds himself at Starbucks again.

It's quiet, only one table occupied by a couple who talk to each other in hushed tones. Mingyu sits at the counter, cheek held in palm, elbow propped up. He sips at his drink on a tilt, tongue fishing for his straw every few minutes. Seungkwan's cleaning up across from him. 

Mingyu sniffles, and pulls his scarf a little tighter around his neck. He still hasn't gotten over his cold. It's definitely better, his throat doesn't feel the achy raw that it did before, and he's not waking up to migraines that pound with the slightest noise, but he coughs and remains feverish, switching between temperatures.

His phone buzzes. The ringtone is the chiming of little bells, and it cuts over the silence of cafe. Rather than feeling bashful, he jumps to attention, holding it closer to read the screen.

Seungkwan scoffs, over the counter. "Could you be anymore eager?" he asks, wet rag in hand. There's a chocolate stain on his apron from the afternoon rush, which just faded out as Mingyu arrived. He, as any (bad) friend would, has pointed it out twice already.

"Can you be any worse at doing your job?" Mingyu retaliates, sticking his tongue out. A little childish, admittedly, but Seungkwan makes the same face back at him and continues wiping down the counter.

Mingyu refocuses his attention back onto his screen.

"What'd he say?" Seungkwan asks after a beat of silence, scrubbing at dried strawberry syrup on the counter with a huff.

Mingyu rights himself, eyes furrowed, gaze suspicious. "How do you know who I'm talking to?" He clutches his phone up against his chest.

Seungkwan rolls his eyes, but leans close. "I have eyes everywhere, remember that, hyung."

Mingyu plays along and gasps in an even more dramatic fashion and Seungkwan laughs. "Anyways," he starts, "I know that's Jeonghan. Did he ask you on a date?"

That's right. After Jeonghan had loomed over him, looking pretty and untouchable and everything Mingyu dreams about, just a week prior, he’d gotten his number. Well. Sort of. The interaction had gone a little like this:

 

_"Hey,"_

Mingyu’s a little too frozen, a little too sick to interact properly. "Uhh," is the most he can manage. Jeonghan looks amused, stoic face twisted into something short of a grin.

He turns his gaze to the seat across from Mingyu. Mingyu turns and looks, too, in case he's missing something. It’s empty, and the booth is a little worn. Nothing too interesting. When he looks back up, Jeonghan's eyes are back on him. Wordlessly, he sits down.

They both take a sip of their drinks, Mingyu to avoid addressing the silence. "You missed class today," Jeonghan mentions, after putting his drink back onto the table. Mingyu sputters and coughs, cheeks red.

"Yeah," he says, barely reaching the mark of eloquence. Jeonghan raises an eyebrow in response, and Mingyu remembers to elaborate. "I wasn't feeling too good."

Jeonghan hums. He takes another sip, eyes slanted in a way that makes him look all too keen. Mingyu pushes himself further back into the booth, feeling a little threatened.

Jeonghan looks dangerous.

There’s a calculated gleam in his eyes, and Mingyu knows a game’s been set up in his mind.

“I can send my notes to you,” he says next, sliding his phone across the table. Mingyu taps his number in, silent. There’s no way Jeonghan _doesn’t_ know that the jacket that slouches off his shoulders is Mingyu’s-- even with the rare possibility he wasn’t able to recognize Mingyu in the darkness of the library, that’s Mingyu’s Jacket. It’s practically a second skin, worn to _every_ lecture and around the campus. And as much as he’d want to deny it, _what other reason would Jeonghan have to approach him_?

So yes, the jig is up.

He slides the phone back across the table, where Jeonghan pockets it with a grin. There’s a couple seconds of quiet and before Mingyu can get anything out of his mouth besides “So, uh,” Jisoo is calling Jeonghan to leave.

He gets up, cool and handsome and _in Mingyu’s jacket_ , and throws a wave over his shoulder. “I’ll catch you later,” he says, all suave and collected, and Mingyu is _too_ tongue tied to respond.

He watches Jeonghan leave, meeting up with Jisoo and Seungcheol at the door, and they exit into the cold. Once they’re completely out of sight, Mingyu sinks back into his seat, out of breath. His nose is running, and he wants to curse, because he probably looked like some disgustingly snotty gremlin through the entire conversation.

When he opens his eyes, Wonwoo’s sitting across from him and Hansol’s in the booth next to him, patting him.  

“Rough interaction,” he coos, scritching Mingyu behind the ear. His frown loosens up at the comforting gesture.

Wonwoo just rolls his eyes and berates him for being so dramatic.

 

And well, really, that was it.

Maybe it wasn't as romantic and gold flaked as Mingyu remembered it, but it was something. After all, Yoon Jeonghan made eye contact with him. He _spoke_ to him. That’s _something_.

He shakes his head back into reality. Seungkwan’s tapping on the counter, waiting for an answer.

"No," he says, and his bottom lip puckers out in a pout. _If only_ Jeonghan had asked him out.

He peeks down at his screen, reading Jeonghan's text. It's just two pictures of notes, neat handwriting inking down the professor's words. " _I forgot to send you these, sorry._ " is signed after.

It's not much, and even if Mingyu feels a little disappointed, he'll take what he can get.

" _Thanks!!"_ he sends back, and ever so easily, is left on read. He wilts, shoulders sagging with defeat. Seungkwan shoots him a look of sympathy, and moves to the back.

When he comes back out, Mingyu is back in his initial position, cheek squished up against his palm. His eyes stare, vacant, and Seungkwan thinks he looks nothing less than a kicked puppy.

He sets a drink in front of him, something sugary and topped with whipped cream. It's not Mingyu's style, but Seungkwan knows he'll enjoy the energy boost.

"Cheer up," he says, pulling a hand through Mingyu's hair, the way he always reacts well to. "You've had so much bad luck recently, some good karma's bound to come around."

Mingyu hums and shoots Seungkwan an easy smile. He's right, the sickness had been awful and pulled him back in a lot of his classes. He's been exhausted, burying himself in school work to catch up, losing sleep and gaining blemishes as a result. He feels at an ultimate low, so it only makes sense for things to get better.

"Yeah. Thanks Seungkwan," he says, and he's starting to feel more positive already.

And then, his phone buzzes.

Seungkwan shoots him a knowing smile, watching him eagerly open the text, hope brightening his face.

It's just Wonwoo, reminding Mingyu that he doesn’t need to wait up for him. He tells Seungkwan, whose expression drops, in the same way Mingyu's confidence does.

Lady Luck has the cruel intentions of ignoring him.

 

-

 

When Mingyu walks into the dorm, at first, he thinks no one is home. He sets his bag down with a huff and rubs at his eyes. He kicks off his shoes and moves towards the couch.

Vernon is buried in his sweatshirt, only his eyes visible. His headphones are big and make him look a little ridiculous, but Mingyu is used to the sight. He's bopping his head, eyes closed and focused on his music, so he doesn't notice Mingyu's approach.

Mingyu stands over him and leans close, and sure enough, he can hear the Vernon's music through his headphones. "Are you listening to the Mario Sunshine soundtrack?" he asks, feeling a little confused.

Vernon responds slowly. His eyes flutter open, and he takes a minute to look around before looking up at Mingyu. "Yeah, man," he says, voice muffled through the fabric of his sweatshirt pulled over his mouth. He pats Mingyu's thigh. "It feels right. Takes me to the past and shit."

Without saying another word, he offers his headphones. "Wanna listen?" he asks, and honestly, Mingyu doesn't. It's a little too spiritual for him to understand. He declines and ruffles Vernon's hair before moving to the kitchen.

In the fridge, there’s still soup left over from when he’d been sick and Wonwoo had continuously been stirring some kind of Campbell’s for him under his mom’s instructions. Mingyu skips it for a snack and falls into the comfort of his bed.

Idly, he opens his phone, glancing through his texts. Someone’s texted him another soup recipe, a girl from his stats class asked if he wanted to meet up at the library. They aren’t the messages he’d been hoping to see. Mingyu lets his phone drop onto his sheets and rolls over.

He sleeps dreamlessly.

 

-

 

The next day, Mingyu has political science. Political science _with Jeonghan_.

He’s actually paying attention to the lecture, neck deep in notetaking, when a text vibrates his desk in the middle of class. He glares at his phone, because his friends _know_ when he has class, and not to disturb him. He's about to ignore it, when he thinks of the slight chance that someone might actually be in trouble, and that has him sliding open his phone too see what could possibly be important enough to alert him 1:26.

His eyes widen when he sees the latest message he'd received.

The hairs on the back of his neck prickle, and he tries to inconspicuously raise his eyes to where Jeonghan is sitting. The blonde faces forward, attentive towards their professor, and his phone is neatly tucked away in his back pocket.

Mingyu looks back down at the open text.

“ _Are you doing anything after class?”_

It’s been a little more than a week following the library incident, a little less than a week since Jeonghan had last texted him. There’d been no contact since then, in fact, Mingyu’s not even sure if Jeonghan still _has_ his jacket.

The professor switches his powerpoint and Mingyu is forced to put his phone down and pay attention to the lecture. The screen burns in his peripheral vision and his leg bounces. As soon as he finished taking notes off the slide, he opens it up again

“ _No, what’s up??”_

His response is collected and calm (he thinks), but he taps his fingers against his desk, eager for Jeonghan’s reply.

_“Do you want to go over the material you missed last week together after class?”_

_“You’re probably feeling a little lost right now.”_

Actually, Mingyu’s not feeling lost at all. Sure, he’s definitely part oblivious, but he’s studious, and missing a day of class only leads to him reviewing his missed notes until he fully understands them, rather than letting himself fall behind. His work ethic is high and his procrastination level is low, but honestly, if Yoon Jeonghan is asking him _out_ , who _really_ knows about his educational habits.

“ _Sure_ ,” Mingyu replies.

“ _Meet me after class”_ , is what Jeonghan’s text reads, and Mingyu inwardly groans because now it’ll be _impossible_ to sit through the rest of the lecture.

After another hour of the grueling lessons, the professor dismisses the class. Students trickle out of the door, and where Mingyu would usually join them, he sits still in his seat, waiting for Jeonghan, who’s chatting to the girl next to him, to move.

When he rises from his seat, shooting a goodbye to the girl, Mingyu stands as well, and makes it his duty to catch up to the eldest. The lecture has mainly cleared out, but he still stumbles from out of his desk, his hair flopping over his eyes and eyelashes getting caught between the strands when he blinks.

Jeonghan’s collecting his bag as Mingyu makes it up the aisle, blindly banging into desks. Jeonghan turns to him, and with no hesitation, leans forward to brush the hair out of his face.

Mingyu flushes, but his eyes are bright, bold with embarrassment.

He thinks there's a hint of a smile curling on Jeonghan's lips, but it might just be the harsh classroom lighting casting shadows in places they shouldn't be. Jeonghan’s hand skims down his cheek and falls away to his side. Mingyu can’t stop staring. It’s embarrassing.

Someone titters, a pretty noise that breaks Mingyu out of his daze, and Jeonghan adjusts the strap of his bag on his shoulder.

"Do you want to do this at Starbucks?" he asks. Mingyu nods and follows eagerly when Jeonghan leads the way out. In the back of his mind, he prays that Seungkwan's shift is over.

He tries not to think about the graceful moment of Jeonghan's shoulders or the look he tosses over his shoulder as they leave the classroom, headed towards the campus coffee shop.

 

-

 

Seungkwan, in fact, is just leaving as they enter. His scarf is tightened around his neck and his hands are preoccupied with coffee, and he almost doesn't notice that Yoon Jeonghan and Mingyu are the couple who hold the door open for him on his way out.

Jeonghan enters first and chooses a booth tucked away in the back of the shop, where the windows fogged up from the icy wind outside. Mingyu puts his bag down and unwinds the scarf from his neck. He patiently waits while Jeonghan spreads out his notebook and papers over the table, flipping to the chapter Mingyu had been absent for.

They order together, Jeonghan something hot to warm his hands, and Mingyu an iced americano, completely out of season (and gets him a dirty look from the barista).

When Mingyu takes out his wallet, Jeonghan pushes his hand down, looking at him sternly. "I'm your hyung, right?"

Tentatively, Mingyu nods.

"Then I'm treating you."

And, well. That's a date, isn't it? Jeonghan taking him out, _paying_ , that's gotta mean something.

Mingyu's mind twists silently, but Jeonghans pushing him away from the cash register towards the waiting area, and once they collect their drinks, they settle down for a long, _long_ study session.

Only five minutes lapse, and Jeonghan's going over some extensive process, fingers skipping over the words, when he abruptly stops, mid-sentence. Mingyu's eyes flicker up from the paper to his face, his neck craned at a awful angle in an attempt to read along with Jeonghan from across the table.

"Here, sit next to me," Jeonghan says, after a moment of thinking. "It's easier than flipping around every paper I try to show you."

Mingyu hopes he's not too eager to comply.

He pushes his coffee to the opposite side of the table while Jeonghan moves himself further into the corner of the booth. It's only when Mingyu sits next to him does he realize just how small Jeonghan is-- lithe, petite shoulders and lean chest, so easily folded against his side.

Jeonghan takes a moment to smile at him, soft and so unlike the Jeonghan that Mingyu had admired over campus distances for months, and Mingyu's breath is taken away. Maybe dreams do come true. Maybe Lady Luck _is_ on his side.

The eldest turns back to his notes, but Mingyu's gaze lingers on the curve of his cheekbones.

Soon enough, it's been over an hour of Jeonghan patiently going over text and drawing out visuals. Mingyu does his best to be engaging, asking questions and humming along, but an hour is a lot, and he feels himself numbing. He focuses less on the review and more on his study partner.

Jeonghan's long, pretty fingers fiddle with the edge of the cup, and Mingyu is looking, he knows he is, but he can't pull his eyes away.

He's not sure how long he's zoned out, but Jeonghan asks him a question and he startles out of his daze. "Huh?" Mingyu bites his lip, flustered, and Jeonghan frowns.

"Which informal political process took place in 2004?"

Oh. Mingyu knows the answer to that. He replies easily, playing it off with an innocent smile. The elder's eyebrows furrow.

"Looks like you're ahead of the game," he says, voice light and teasing.

Mingyu realizes he's been set up, and with a quick glance at the open notebook in front of the two, confirms that the two haven't even hit the part of the chapter in question.

He'd been caught red handed.

Mingyu panics, just a little, and scrambles for an excuse to cover his ass. "Review is good," he says in a weak attempt to defend himself.

Instead of reacting negatively, Jeonghan laughs, and it's sweet, has him crowding into Mingyu's space, close enough for him to be able to see the curl of Jeonghan's eyes and the scrunch of his nose. The soft fabric of his sweater brushes against Mingyu's thin cotton shirt, and his chest burns with the contact.

Jeonghan hiccups on the breath he takes while composing himself. "I guess you know your stuff," he concedes, and it's all too endearing.

Mingyu wants to take him by the shoulders, wants to pull him in for a kiss. Up close, enough to see flutter of his eyelashes, he confirms that Jeonghan is just as pretty as he'd originally believed, if not more.

Internally, he's rebutting Wonwoo's stupid "bad boy" theory. How can someone like Jeonghan coin such a notorious reputation when he’s so intelligent and kind, caring enough to go over notes with Mingyu, some underclassman.

Jeonghan places a hand high up on his thigh. Mingyu jolts a little, and when he focuses his attention down to his face, Jeonghan's peering up at him with big eyes, his tongue wetting his lips.

"Should we continue?" He asks, but his eyes read something darker.   
Oh. _Oh_ , Mingyu's thinking, because, it's a date, but it looks like Jeonghan has different intentions than his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was bad. anyways.  
> follow me on twt @cupidhvc :)

**Author's Note:**

> hi ill try my best 2 post chapter two sometime within this year  
> my twt is @puppyboymingyu
> 
> ps i love u caden for betaing


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